


Stroll with a Snake, or How strange Mr. Fell made a spectacle of himself

by LTRisBACK



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has Chronic Pain (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Other, Reading, Slice of Life, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Soft (tm), caring for your significant other, transformations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29052081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LTRisBACK/pseuds/LTRisBACK
Summary: In which our Ineffable partners support each other, go on a walk to scare the humans and love each other very much.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 86





	Stroll with a Snake, or How strange Mr. Fell made a spectacle of himself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fractalgeometry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalgeometry/gifts), [Nenchen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nenchen/gifts).



> Someone on Ace Omens, I don't remember who, made a comment about someone yelling at Aziraphale about kissing a snake. This grew from that seed. I hope you enjoy, please feel free to point out spelling and grammar errors, if you like it hit the kudos button?

Aziraphale glanced around the shop with a sigh. As much as he loved his shop and his books, he did occasionally feel the need to leave them. Currently, his feet were itching to be out and about. Now normally, this would not be an issue. He would glance in the mirror, adjust his bowtie, maybe check the (never untied) laces on his shoes, then either take his umbrella or leave it in the stand and wander out into London’s streets.

Since the events of what Crowley liked to refer to a disarmageddon, there had been something of a change to this routine. Rather than simply prepare himself and head out, Aziraphale would pick up the phone or, on very good days indeed, turn to the figure reclining on the sofa and issue an invitation to join him for a turn in the park followed by a meal somewhere. 

The issue today came in the exact form of the figure relaxing on the sofa. Rather than a very long limbed, red-headed demon, there was a very long everywhere demon. The very large noodle had limped in the night before and Aziraphale had taken one look at his love before snapping his fingers, summoning the heat lamp to stand behind and hang over the sofa, then gestured for Crowley to take his place. 

Crowley, faced with this ultimatum, had pouted and sulked and tried to insist that he wasn’t THAT sore. He didn’t really need to change, to rest his not-quite-hips and knees and spine until they stopped making him feel excessive amounts of pain. Aziraphale had just sighed softly, recognising the mood, and stepped up beside his demon. He wrapped an arm around Crowley’s middle and guided him down onto the sofa, ending up with Crowley leaning against his side, head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, limbs splayed in every direction. 

Aziraphale’s hand had settled in Crowley’s hair, gently stroking the soft strands and rubbing at his scalp, and he felt the demon relaxing against him bit by bit until Crowey finally released all the tension he was holding. As it went, scales washed over his skin, leaving Aziraphale holding what many would have believed to be a human form dragon. Crowley had uttered a sigh of resignation and shifted to lie fully on the sofa, head now cushioned in Aziraphale’s lap and leaning against his stomach. 

Aziraphale had snapped his fingers, summoning a particular book before returning the hand to Crowley’s hair. Opening the book one handed, he began to read. “Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump bump bump…” He stroked Crowley’s hair and ‘read’ the familiar words as the demon slowly, achingly slowly, relaxed. 

Finally, with an all-over shudder, Crowley’s body shifted, lengthening and narrowing until Aziraphale, and the sofa, were buried in coils of serpent. With a small smile on his face and gentle hands, Aziraphale helped Crowley rearrange himself until the angel wasn’t completely pinned by the weight. Crowley’s head ended up on Aziraphale’s shoulder, several coils looping loosely around his body. Turning his head, Aziraphale pressed a chaste kiss to the top of Crowley’s, and when the demon turned to face him, another to the tip of his snoot. Crowley went almost cross eyed as he considered the action and Aziraphale, biting his lip to keep from laughing, turned his head to look down at the book once more. 

A night of reading aloud led them to their current situation - Crowley dozing on the sofa while Aziraphale paced and thought. He wanted, needed, to get out of the space for a while. It was starting to feel as though it was closing in on him, and that was never a good sign. 

“Asssssiraphale?” he turned to face the sofa and realised, as he did, that he had a hand fisted in his hair. “What’ssssss wrong?” 

“Nothing, my dear, nothing, everything is absolutely tickety-boo,” Aziraphale tried to reassure the demon, who just drew himself up higher, head swaying slightly from side to side as he looked the angel up and down. 

“No it’sssss not,” Crowley replied, and so saying he slithered off the couch and over to his angel. “Alright, Angel, pick me up, let’sssss go out,” he ordered briskly. Aziraphale gaped at him for a long moment, long enough that Crowley apparently decided he’d better take matters into his own hands, or rather coils. He launched himself at Aziraphale as he might at a tree, slithering up his body to coil around him. Aziraphale could feel him shrinking even as he arranged himself, until instead of a record-breaking monster serpent he was only holding approximately nine feet or so of snake. Said snake was coiled around his shoulders, coincidentally pulling Aziraphale’s hand free from his hair, scaly head currently on top of Aziraphale’s, mostly hidden in his blond curls. 

When the angel didn’t immediately move to leave the shop, Crowley shifted forwards so his head was hanging down in front of Aziraphale’s face and turned to look at him. He very carefully and deliberately tapped his nose against Aziraphale’s, which seemed to wake the angel up from his stupor. “Come on, Angel, let’sssss go!” ‘Ssssss boring here!” 

Barely managing not to roll his eyes at the ridiculous statement, Aziraphale (with a glance at the sky to check the weather) chose to forgo actually carrying an umbrella. He would always miracle it into his hand if he really needed one, after all. 

They strolled down the street, Crowley shifting positions every so often to best view something, or just to enjoy the reaction from a passing pedestrian who hadn’t realised what, exactly, the blond man going for a walk had around his shoulders. Aziraphale rolled his eyes but said nothing about Crowley’s antics. 

They had stopped to look in the window of an antique store (not one of the best ones, unfortunately, but they did occasionally get something interesting in) and Crowley had been considering Aziraphale’s reflection more than the things in the window when he realised the angel’s eyes were also on him. Then Aziraphale’s head turned and he was pressing a soft kiss to Crowley’s snoot. Smiling at him, he leaned in and gently kissed him again, only to have a rough voice interrupt them. 

“Oi! Stop that!” 

Two heads, one ethereal, one occult, turned as one to look at the interloper. A young man was standing glaring at Aziraphale, hands on his hips. 

“Excuse me?” Aziraphale turned to face him more fully, eyebrows rising. “Can I help you?” 

“You shouldn’t be kissing that snake! They don’t like that kind of contact, it’s dangerous, and you could give him bacteria by putting your mouth on him!” 

Crowley was staring at the human, amazed at the audacity, then he glanced at his angel, who was equally bemused. Aziraphale clearly didn’t know how to respond to it, so Crowley decided to take care of things himself. 

Drawing himself up beside Aziraphale’s head he locked eyes with the young man, then allowed his mouth to drop open. His fangs came down and he hissed loudly, darting his head forward just enough to startle a flinch out of him. Then, not dropping the eye contact, he closed his mouth again, turned his head towards Aziraphale and shifted around to face him. Moving very carefully and deliberately, he booped Aziraphale on the mouth, then the tip of his nose, then each cheek, then he flicked his tongue over the angel’s eyes, touching each of his eyelids. 

By the time he turned back to the human, feeling smug, the interfering busybody’s mouth was hanging open. 

“I think,” Aziraphale said, tone kindly enough, “that you need to go and have a nice cup of tea and a sit down.” He snapped his fingers quietly and the young man nodded dumbly and stumbled away from them, glancing back once or twice to see Crowley winding himself more firmly around Aziraphale’s shoulders. 

“Really?” Crowley demanded crossly. “After all my work, showing off for you, and you just let him go?” 

“He was only trying to help, my dear. I think the next time he decides to intervene, he might think about his tone a little more. Although, consider this: if he was dealing with any other...snake owner...in London, he would have been absolutely correct in his remarks.” 

Crowley couldn’t exactly argue with that, but he still grumbled quietly as Aziraphale continued on towards the park. Eventually, given the opportunity to startle a particularly annoying mid-forties female member of the local neighbourhood watch, he cheered up. The shriek she uttered when she realised that ‘that lovely Mr. Fell’ was not simply wearing a rather odd stole was music to Crowley’s ears, and he watched her rapid retreat down the path - too hampered by her ridiculous shoes to be considered a run - with pleasure. 

They stopped for tea at a cafe that welcomed dogs and Aziraphale simply looked at the stuffy head waiter when he considered making a fuss about Crowley. Soon enough they were seated and when Aziraphale’s tea and cakes came out the waitress, with a little wink, added an extra dish of milk and a whole egg. 

“It’s raw. Does he eat eggs? I know not all snakes can or do, but thought if he could he might enjoy it?” 

“Thank you, yes, Anthony is rather fond of eggs,” Aziraphale agreed easily. Crowley was already eyeing his treats and bobbed his head at the waitress, who smiled at him again before going on her way. 

“If you eat that here, will you be able to keep from expelling the shell for a bit, or should you wait to eat the egg until just before we leave?” Aziraphale asked, interrupting Crowley’s contemplation of how good the egg was going to feel in his throat, cracking under his muscles. He hadn’t eaten an egg in ages and this one smelt great. ‘Must be free range,’ he thought to himself. Still, Aziraphale had a point. If he regurgitated the eggshell in here the snooty waiter would be furious, and other than him being a bit pompous the rest of the experience had been wonderful. Crowley didn’t want to make trouble for the kind waitress who had brought him his treat, either. 

“Okay,” he agreed sulkily. “I’ll wait. I’ll drink the milk for now.” 

“Would you like me to put in a splash of tea?” Aziraphale asked as he reached for the pot to pour his own. Crowley considered for a moment, scenting the air around the pot and around his bowl of milk, then nodded his consent. A little tea flavour would be nice and would also warm the milk, saving him from a sore stomach later. 

They settled in to enjoy their repast, Aziraphale delicately nibbling on the cakes and sandwiches and sipping at his tea while Crowley alternated between ‘lapping’ at the milk with his tongue and sinking his entire lower jaw into the bowl to drink a mouthful or two. 

Finally Aziraphale was down to his last cake and Crowley turned his attention to the egg. He let his tongue flicker over it again, tasting the air around it. It was good, and fresh, and he reached for it delicately, wrapping his jaws around it and drawing it down his throat. It was a relatively small egg for his size, and he contracted the muscles to crack then crush the shell. Aziraphale was just finishing his last sip of tea at this point, and he gestured for the bill, which was swiftly delivered. 

Leaving several notes inside the billfold, Aziraphale stood, rearranging Crowley slightly as he did. This resulted in a lady at the next table suddenly realising that the black scarf that didn’t match the gentleman’s rather out-of-date suit was no such thing and uttering a shriek that had half the restaurant snapping around to see what was wrong and whether it required them to react as well. 

Aziraphale merely leveled the woman with a dark look then turned and began walking out of the restaurant. Crowley shifted and slithered around until he was looking backwards over the angel’s shoulder, then ‘grinned’ at the now silent customer, who collapsed into her chair in a near-faint. 

“Heh,” Crowley chuckled as he shifted back onto Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Haven’t had one go down that easily since women stopped carrying smelling salts everywhere.” 

Aziraphale bit his lip to stifle a chuckle, but Crowley could feel his shoulders shaking under his scaly bulk and flicked his tongue over the angel’s ear to tickle him. Aziraphale flinched then laughed softly and, turning his head, pressed a soft kiss to the side of Crowley’s. 

The fearsome serpent of Eden huffed and flopped down on his angel’s shoulder, then glanced around. “Any chance you could walk through some bushes or something, Angel?” he asked softly. “About ready to get rid of this eggshell.” 

Without comment or complaint, Aziraphale redirected his steps back into the park once more, walking across the lawn to pass through a copse of trees. In there, Crowley swiftly unspooled himself onto the ground and regurgitated the crunched up shell. 

That nasty chore completed, Crowley accepted Aziraphale’s lowered hand to boost him back to shoulder height, enjoying letting himself engage in sloth at his angel’s expense, while his angel showed love and care to another living being, both of them thereby fulfilling basic, primal urges. 

They wandered for a while longer, then Aziraphale found his feet turning back towards the shop, towards home. He didn’t hurry his steps, as he knew that Crowley may choose at any point now to return to his human form and leave him to fend for himself, but he didn’t try to come up with somewhere else to go either. 

When they reached the shop, however, Crowley seemed to be in no rush. He rearranged himself on the couch (and Aziraphale) and hung his head over the angel’s shoulder, hissing lazily. Aziraphale, with no prompting required, lifted The House on Pooh Corner from where he had left it and went back to reading, his demon snuggling closer as he did so. 

At some point, rather more than twenty four hours after he had arrived in the shop, Crowley shuddered and writhed, then settled again, this time in human form, against his angel. 

“There’s no rush, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back for a little longer?” He eased his fingers into Crowley’s hair, which had come through in something rather like the ringlets he’d sported in Eden. Crowley sighed happily even as he shook his head under the angel’s hand. 

“Nah, this is good, thanks, Angel,” he murmured. Aziraphale just smiled and nodded, then went back to running his fingers through Crowley’s hair. 

“Very well, my dear,” he leaned down and kissed Crowley’s forehead, then pressed his own head lightly against Crowley’s, enjoying the closeness with his demon. Crowley stilled completely under the touch, not even fidgeting, and when Aziraphale started to draw back he darted up and pecked a kiss on the angel’s cheek before laying back down in his lap. 

Aziraphale couldn’t help himself, he blushed even as he pressed a hand to the spot where his demon had kissed him. He shook his head quickly, avoiding Crowley’s faintly amused gaze and the demon’s own blush brightened cheeks. “Well, then, where was I?” he asked, turning back to the book. A lazy snap brought a bottle of very nice dessert wine and two glasses to sit on the table, and Crowley’s expectation that it wouldn’t dare to spill kept it from making a terrible mess as he poured for both of them without ever leaving his position in the angel’s lap completely. He was more stymied by how he was supposed to drink it but one more snap summoned a straw, Aziraphale not quite managing to contain his snort at the addition, and he was soon sipping away, somewhat noisily, while Aziraphale drank with rather more decorum above him. Crowley cuddled further into Aziraphale’s embrace and settled to listen to him read stories of childhood innocence and wonder, his lips lifting in a smile. Yes. This was the life.


End file.
